


The Purveyors of Aid to Magical Mischief Makers

by bexgowen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, The Marauder's Map
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28807875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexgowen/pseuds/bexgowen
Summary: While spending the summer at Grimmauld Place between their sixth and seventh year, George and Fred Weasley learn something about Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Making Moony Laugh](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/744219) by Autumnalis. 



_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

George Weasley looked at the building in front of them, confused. Despite the darkness - it was well into the night - he could see that the row of terraced houses had seen better days, with cracks and holes in several dark windows and paint peeling from the sills. The fence that ran in front of the building looked to be more rust than metal, and several of the gates sagged on their hinges. A pile black bags sat on the front step of number ten, and while George didn’t know what was in them, the smell told him he didn’t want to know.

This wasn’t exactly what he had imagined when his parents had told him that the family would be spending the summer at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, helping Dumblebore in the fight against the return of You-Know-Who (even in his head, George couldn’t say the name). George wasn’t entirely sure what he was imagining - perhaps something like the offices at the Ministry of Magic, large and full of people busy doing important things - not a decrepit house in a run down part of London.

George quickly ran his eyes over the numbers on the doors in front of him. Number ten, number eleven - one of the “1”s fallen upside down - and number thirteen. No twelve.

As he turned to give his twin a confused look, movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A new door had appeared, the number twelve shining dully in the lamp light. It was just as grubby as the other doors, and behind it, as though following the door, appeared brick walls and smeared windows, pushing aside the buildings to its left and right until, with a satisfied sigh, the building stopped moving and another terrace house sat before them. 

“Brilliant,” breathed Fred, and George agreed. It was one thing to make a house unseen. But this? 

They stood there for one moment more, with their family, marvelling at the magic that had made a house appear out of nowhere, apparently without disturbing any of its neighbours. 

“Quickly now,” their mother said, urging her family forwards. Molly Weasley led the way, a hand on her daughter Ginny’s back as they passed through the broken gate and up the worn stairs. George’s younger brother, Ron, followed behind Ginny. Fred moved and - without even thinking - George matched Fred’s steps as they passed through the gate and waited at the bottom of the steps. 

Molly had pulled out her wand and tapped on the door, just above the silver door knocker. For a moment, George thought that nothing had happened, but then with a creak the door opened, revealing darkness inside.

“In, in,” Molly whispered, hurrying Ginny and Ron past her through the door. “Don’t touch anything, and wait just in the hall.”

With raised eyebrows, George followed Fred up the stairs. As he passed his mother, George noted that still had her wand out, and was scanning the street intently as she waved George through the door into the dark hall, bringing up the rear and quietly pulling the door closed behind her.

The darkness pressed in around them. George knew that Fred and Ron were just in front of him, but couldn’t make out anything. He lifted his hand up and stopped it where he was sure his face was. Nope. Couldn’t see it. With his other hand Georged reached behind himself and grabbed his wand, which he had shoved into his back pocket. Carefully pulling it out, he lifted his wand and whispered “Lumos”.

The tiny light appeared at the end of his wand barely penetrated the deep gloom of the hallway, but he could at least see his hand now, and the vague shapes of his brothers and sister. On the wall next to him he could see a tarnished ornate frame, but couldn’t see the portrait it surrounded. 

With a quiet “thank you, dear,” Molly eased passed him and wound her way carefully past her children and down the hall, flicking her hand as she went. With each movement the lamps on the wall flickered on, their weak glow creating pockets of light along what George could now see was a long hallway. 

“Molly,” came a disembodied voice, and out of the darkness George could see a vaguely Arthur Weasley shaped figure moving towards his mother. It must have been Dad, George decided, because Molly gave a sigh of relief and hugged the figure, and George wasn’t sure that Molly was on hugging terms with any of the other members of the Order of the Phoenix, whoever they were.

As the light in the lamps started to brighten, George could see that it was in fact his father, who was smiling a rather tired smile at them as he released his wife “Come in, come in,” he urged his children, “door on the right, don’t touch anything. He clapped Fred on the shoulder as he passed and gave an approving nod to George, who was still holding his wand light up. 

George swung his wand in front of him as he moved forward, illuminating shaky but severe looking hall tables with dull silver candelabras and candle sticks standing upon them and a large, open vessel that upon second look George realised was a hollowed out troll leg. Finally, he reached his destination: a door to his right leading to a dark, narrow flight of stone stairs going down, with a rickety looking set of wooden stairs rising into the darkness on the other side of the hall. With a curious glance at the dark stairs, George followed his twin through the door and down.

The stairs led to a large kitchen. A large fireplace at one end of the cavernous room had a fire snapping and cracking happily, throwing light and warmth into the cool, stone room. A long wooden table - George had a flash of the dining tables from Hogwart’s Great Hall - filled the middle of the room, surrounded by a mis-mash of chairs and stools. Sitting at the table, a sturdy cup of something steaming and a roll of parchment in front of him, was Professor Lupin. 

George grinned at Lupin as he moved into the kitchen, pleased to see him again. Lupin stood as the Weasleys crowded around the door, a tired but welcoming smile on his face. He offered his hand across the table and Ron eagerly moved forwards, shaking it and happily greeting Lupin. George wondered at this - Ron was behaving as though Lupin were a favourite uncle, not a one-time professor from school (even if he had been George’s second favourite Defence of the Dark Arts teacher) - but forgot this as Lupin shook hands with Ginny, Fred and then George, giving each a smile and soft word of welcome before taking his seat at the table again and offering the Weasleys a choice of seat with a wave of his hand.

Molly bustled around the table as heavy mugs appeared in front of each of them, a floating pot moving from mug to mug pouring something steamy that smelt of rich chocolate. With a smile, George lifted the mug in front of him and sipped. It was, indeed, his mum’s hot chocolate: thick and rich and delicious. A plate of digestive biscuits appeared in the middle of the table and George reached for one with his other hand.

“Right, drink up, and then bed,” Molly ordered. “It’s late.”

George had a thousand questions he wanted to ask - _Why is Lupin here? Is this his place? Is he part of the Order of the Phoenix?_ \- but couldn’t stop the jaw-cracking yawn from escaping, and saw his mother nod knowingly. As his father sat down at the far end of the table, Lupin got up to join him, taking the parchment with him and talking softly. George sipped his hot chocolate, trying as hard as he could to make out the soft words without looking like he was trying to overhear. As he struggled to hide a second yawn - he could see Fred yawning out of the corner of his eye too - Molly chivvied all her children out of the kitchen and up the wooden stairs. They stopped on the first landing and Molly gently pushed Ginny into a room behind the door on the left. Another flight of stairs, then Ron was shown into a room on the right. One final flight of stairs - and then Molly guided Fred and George (who felt as though his feet had had weights attached to them) into a room with twin beds, their trunks stacked at the end of one bed. Without even taking off his trainers George flopped face first into the bed, and was asleep before the door snicked shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning George’s eyes flew open, his hand reaching for his wand even before he was fully awake. Sitting up, he cast his eyes over the small room, looking for whatever it was that had woken him. Early morning light was coming in around the edges of the curtains. There was Fred, still asleep, sprawled out on the other twin bed. There were their trunks, stacked at the end of their beds. And there - 

The door shut with a soft _click_.

George frowned, then rubbed his eyes. _Could’ve been mum_ , he thought. _Checking on us_. But he wasn’t sure - it wasn’t like Molly to let sleeping children lie. George grabbed up the watch that was laying on the small table beside the bed, and squinted at its face. Half six. _Merlin, that’s early_ , George thought. But, he was up now. No point trying to go back to sleep.

“Oi,” he said, kicking the side of Fred’s bed. “Wake up.”

“Nghnngng,” came the reply from deep within the pillow.

George considered his twin for a moment, and then got up. He could wake Fred later. First order of business: find a bathroom.

~*~

George eventually found a bathroom on the first floor, and debated whether to climb back up the stairs to wake his twin, or to continue down to the kitchen to get breakfast. Or at least a cup of tea. Then, with a sly grin, he remembered: he could climb the stairs. Or…..

Concentrating on the bedroom as he had last seen it - _destination_ \- George focused on how much he wanted to arrive there - _determination_ \- and then, with _deliberation_ , George closed his eyes and spun on the spot, letting the darkness and the pressure overwhelm him. As he felt the release from the squeezing sensation George opened his eyes. He quickly scanned his body, making sure that all parts were present and accounted for (despite passing the test with flying colours, George still had a fear that one day he would splinch himself in some embarrassing manner) and pleased that he had successfully completed the apparition, threw a relieved grin at his twin, was sitting up in his bed, rubbing his face.

“Morning,” Fred said, blinking tiredly at George.

“Morning,” George agreed, moving towards his trunks and flipping open the top one, pulling through the hastily thrown in items to find a clean set of clothes. 

“Bathroom?” Fred asked, rubbing at the back of his head, looking a bit lost.

“First floor,” George told him. 

Fred slowly got to his feet - George didn’t like mornings either, but Fred was almost useless without a decent night’s sleep and a late start - and stumbled out of the bedroom. 

“Meet you in the kitchen, yeah?” George called at Fred’s back, smiling fondly at the half hearted wave he got in return.

Changed into fresh clothing, George grabbed the smallest of the trunks that he and Fred had packed, and shoved it as far under the head of his bed as he could get it. George was certain that his mother would be along at some point to check the rooms, and George really didn’t want her to find his and Fred’s joke shop supplies. Merlin only knows what she would do with them, and he and Fred had plans for this year. Big plans. 

Stepping back to make sure that the trunk couldn’t be seen, George closed his eyes, spun on the spot, and with a _crack_ Apparated in the doorway to the basement kitchen. With a pleased grin, he stepped forward and then turned at the crack behind him that signalled Fred’s near simultaneous and identical arrival. 

Fred wasn’t looking at him, though. Fred was looking past George, staring in horror at something in the kitchen. Worried, George looked around. 

Sitting at the table, scowling into a cup of tea, was a man that George had never met before but instantly knew. Long black hair fell down to his shoulders, cheek bones jutted out of a thin face: he was cleaner and looked healthier than he had in the photos in the Daily Prophet, but George would have recognised him anywhere: Sirius Black.

George saw Fred pull out his wand and point it straight at Sirius, stepping up to stand next to George. “What are you doing here?” Fred asked, his voice strong but George could a thread of fear under his words. George instantly pulled out his own wand too, his mind furiously working at how Sirius Black got into the house, why he was there, and why - when faced with two (admittedly only just of age) wizards pointing wands at him - the darkest of Dark Wizards since You Know Who simply sat at the kitchen table and glowered deeper into his cup. 

“Fred! George!!” Molly emerged from the pantry with a horrified look on her face. With a quick wave of her wand she sent the loaf of bread and jars of jam and honey that she was herding out of the pantry flying to the table, and hurried around the table to grab at their wrists, forcing them to lower their wands. 

“Mum, get out of the way, that’s Sirius Black!” Fred exclaimed, struggling against his mother’s grip to raise his wand again, his other arm trying to shove her behind him. 

George risked a glance at Sirius, who sighed a heavy sigh before pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. 

“Lower your wand,” Molly hissed at Fred, and then said, over her shoulder, “I’m sorry Sirius, we got in so late last night, we didn’t get a chance to explain, I thought I would be able to catch them before they came down for breakfast, I didn’t think they would _apparate_ straight into the kitchen -”

“It’s alright Molly,” Sirius said with great reluctance. 

“Mum, what - ?” George frowned in confusion at his mother’s apologetic tone, lowering his wand. Since when did escaped mass murderers get apologies and explanations?

“Sirius?”

George and Fred looked behind them to see Ron, who had stopped short upon seeing his mother struggling with his brothers in the doorway. Ron followed Fred’s furious glare across the room to see Sirius Black standing at the table, and George was shocked when a grin spread across Ron’s face and he pushed past Fred and George to offer his hand to Sirius with a happy “it’s good to see you, mate.” George was even more flabbergasted when Sirius’ face softened and he returned the handshake, obviously somewhat pleased to see the youngest Weasley. 

As the Weasleys sat down to breakfast, Sirius stalked out of the kitchen, mumbling something to Molly about seeing to Buckbeak, whatever that meant. Molly cast an unreadable look in his direction, and then leant over the table, fixing her children with a stern look. “First of all, Fred, George, you can come down to breakfast like normal wizards: you don’t need to apparate down the stairs. You don’t see your father and I Apparating around the house, do you? Just because you are allowed to use magic, don’t mean you _need_ to use it _all the time_.” With one final glare, she sat back. “Right, now: Sirius.”

Over toast and hot tea, George listened to his mother give the explanation that she had clearly meant to give them before they had found Sirius in the kitchen: Sirius was innocent of the charges that had put him in Azkaban, but it was complicated; he was Harry’s godfather, and was part of the Order of the Phoenix; he offered his ancestral home as headquarters for the Order, and they would be staying as his guests for the summer, since Arthur and Bill would both be working for the Order.

None of this explained, however, how Ron appeared to not only know all this already - he barely paid Molly any attention as he shoveled toast into this mouth - but was familiar enough with Sirius Black to be happy to see him. So when Molly left the kitchen - muttering about Ginny needing to get up - Fred and George scruffed Ron and dragged him out of the kitchen and into the first room they could find. It appeared to have once intended to be a drawing room, but it was so dark and dusty and sinister looking that George thought he could barely tolerate to entertain his worst enemy in the room, let alone someone he actually wanted to see. 

“Oi, gerrof me,” Ron shrugged out of Fred’s grip, rubbing at his arm and glaring at the twins.

“Right then, ickle Ronnikins,” Fred said, crossing his arms across his chest and attempting to stare Ron down - something that was getting more and more difficult, given that Ron favoured their father with his long limbs that just seemed to keep growing, while the twins took after their mother with shorter, stockier builds. Ron simply glared back.

“Now, how is it that you know Sirius Black,” George picked up the interrogation.

“What wasn’t mum telling us that you seem to know?”

“Better start talking, little brother.”

“Or we’ll slip something into your morning juice.”

“We’ve got a few things that need testing, we do.”

Ron glowered, but looked nervous at the suggestion that he might become an unwitting test subject for one of Fred and George’s joke shop products. 

“Alright,” he relented. And as Ron started talking, George’s jaw dropped. Harry’s parents - why wasn’t George surprised that the story involved Harry? - had used a Secret Keeper to hide from You Know Who. And everyone had thought that the Secret Keeper was Sirius Black, and that he had betrayed his best friends, but he - without telling anyone - had convinced Harry’s parents to switch to another of their friends, Peter Pettigrew, and it had been Peter who had told Voldemort where to find the Potters, the night that Voldemort had killed Harry’s parents and tried to kill Harry. And it was Peter who - when confronted by Sirius - blew up the street full of Muggles before disappearing, but first cutting off one of his fingers so that it looked like he too had been killed.

“Not to rain on your parade, but how in Merlin’s name do you know all this?” Fred said to Ron after a short silence, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

Ron looked off to the side for a moment, a frown on his face. Fred and George exchanged curious glances. Then Ron sighed and slowly, said:

“You remember Scabbers?”

“Percy’s old rat, yeah. What about him?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Scabbers was Peter Pettigrew,” Fred repeated, not for the first time.

It was lunch time, and the twins had escaped, claiming exhaustion after a morning of deep cleaning Grimmauld Place, begging for just a few minutes to rest before starting on the next task. Molly had relented and the twins had retreated to their room, finally able to talk about what they had learned from Ron that morning.

George nodded, a little squeamish at the thought that a man in rat form had been living with them for twelve years. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “We should tell Percy - can you imagine……”

George let the sentence trail off as he remembered with a pang, followed by a flash of anger, that Percy was standing resolutely behind the Minister of Magic, turning his back on his family. He wouldn’t be telling Percy anything right now. Not even that his beloved rat had been a mass murderer in disguise.

Fred shook his head angrily and started pacing the small bedroom.

“He and Scabbers - Peter - _Merlin!_ \- deserve each other,” he muttered. 

Privately, George thought this was going a bit far - Percy was a right git, but so far he hadn’t betrayed or killed anyone - but didn’t want to get into with Fred right now.

“I wonder how hard it is to become an Animagi,” he wondered out loud instead, trying to distract Fred. “Can’t be that hard if three fifth year students could do it. Merlin, wouldn’t that be cool?”

Fred stopped pacing, his head tilted as he thought about it. “McGonnogal didn’t really go into it,” he said, and George tried to think back to the lesson on Animagi back in third year Transfigurations. 

“I remember her saying you don’t get to pick your Animagus form,” George remembered. “I wonder what mine would be?”

Fred looked at George. “D’you think we’d have the same form, if we became Animagi? He asked curiously.

George raised an eyebrow. “I dunno. D’you want to try?”

Fred considered it. “Nah. Too much to do this year, what with the joke shop business and all that.”

George nodded, conceding that they would be busy, but privately wondered what his Animagus form would be. He thought that he would like his to be a large animal, like the black dog Ron told them Sirius transformed into. Maybe a lion, like the Gryffindor lion. That would be wicked. And (even more privately) he hoped that his Animagus form would be different from Fred’s. 

Before they could say anything else, a loud bell reverberated through-out the house, followed by ear-splitting shrieks and screams as the portrait of Sirius’ mother and the other Black family portraits hanging in the hall woke up, and Fred and George sprinted for the door to see who had arrived. 

~*~

Staying at the headquarters of the underground resistance movement in the fight against You Know Who wasn’t as exciting as George had thought it would be. He and Fred, along with Ron and Ginny and the newly arrived Hermione had been enlisted to fight: but in what felt like a losing battle against Grimmauld Place itself. George vaguely knew of the Black family and its history - most wizarding families knew each other’s history - but was shocked and awed at the amount of Dark magical artifacts that were laying around like trinkets, ready to curse anyone who disturbed them. Not to mention the number of magical creatures that had infested the rooms: say what you like about the Burrow, George thought, but at least it was clean.

Sirius often joined them in their efforts - grumbling that he had nothing better to do - ruthlessly purging the house of family heirlooms as the Weasley’s tackled the general level of dirty and decay. During the process the twins met the Black family house-elf, Kreacher, who sneaked behind Sirius and the Weasleys, trying to rescue the smaller and more precious items that Sirius was tossing into the bags of rubbish. 

George wasn’t sure what to make of Kreacher: he and Fred were well acquainted with house elves in general, having discovered the entrance to the Hogwart’s kitchen many years ago thanks for the Marauder’s Map. Kreacher was….something else. George supposed that that was what happened when a house elf - who was probably not treated the best to start with - was left alone for years on end, taking orders from a portrait of a mentally unstable woman (or a mentally unstable portrait of a woman, George wasn’t quite sure which came first). The muttering, the stream of consciousness insults that Kreacher either didn’t realise that everyone could hear or didn’t care were a bit much: at first, George found the elf funny in a dark sort of way, but as the days went on and the mutters became less general insults and more and more personal slurs, George understood Sirius’ hatred of the elf. It was hard to sympathise with someone who called you a ‘blood traitor’ and an ‘unnatural creature’ on a daily basis. George had asked his mother why they couldn’t free Kreacher, but Molly had explained Kreacher knew too much about the Order of the Phoenix, and so had to remain at Grimmauld Place, if only to stop him from passing information on the Order and its missions. 

As for the Order itself, Molly kept them as far away from the kitchen as she could, and seemed to know exactly when the twins were sneaking around, trying to listen in.

“Maybe she had Mad-Eye keeping an eye out,” Fred grumbled as he and George were hurried up the stairs yet again.

“She doesn’t need Mad-Eye, she saw your gigantic nose peering round the corner, you idiot” George responded, flopping down onto his bed.

“Oi, it’s your nose too!’

“Yeah, but I know how to keep it from sticking out, don’t I?”

Fred sighed. “If only we could stick our ears around the corners.”

George sat bolt upright, his mind suddenly spinning with the image of an ear, sneaking around a corner.

“What” Fred said curiously.

“What if we could?” 

~*~

The Extendable Ear (Fred had named it, George wasn’t sold on the name yet) didn’t look like much: a long, rubbery, flesh coloured string, but through a lot of trial and error and days of work Fred and George had discovered a way to get sound to travel from end of the string through to the other, so when you put one end of the string in your ear, you could hear whatever was being said wherever the other end was. Fred had come up with the extending charm which allowed the string to lengthen until it was in a prime listening position. The strings were currently stretched from the first landing of the staircase to the stone stairwell leading to the kitchen, where the Order was having another meeting. So far, nothing too interesting had been discussed: there had been talk about the current whereabouts of families known to have supported You-Know-Who in the last war and people reporting back from various shifts doing guard duty - one of which the twins were shocked to realise was guarding Harry - but George was thrilled that the sound was coming through loud and clear. 

The sudden sound of chairs scraping against the stone floor, of feet, of multiple voices breaking out into chatter made the twins wince and pull the end of the piece of rubbery string from their ears. George made a mental note to experiment with noise dampening charms, and started to pull his string up the stairs. Fred, he noticed, had put his Extendable Ear back in, and was concentrating hard, his eyes screwed up a bit against the volume. George risked a look around the corner of the staircase and could see the members of the Order of the Phoenix file out of the kitchen towards the front door. He could see Professor Dumbledore walking with Mad-Eye Moody, still deep in conversation. Their father was walking with a tall, black man that George knew to be Kingsley Shacklebolt. Trailing the group was Tonks, a young Auror that George guessed to be around Charlie’s age. Tonks threw a wink and a mischievous smile at the stairs as she walked past with Molly, as though she knew the twins were there, and turned to ask Molly a question, distracting her from the sight of the thin, flesh coloured strings laying in the shadows of the stairs. 

With a smile that he knew Tonks couldn’t see, George started to slowly reel his Extendable Ear back in, but movement from Fred caught his eye. 

“Wait,” Fred mouthed, gesturing at his ears, and George slipped the end of the string back into his ear.

“ - plan,” George heard Lupin say in his calm voice.

“It’s a bloody ridiculous plan,” Sirius’ voice was sharp as he snapped at Lupin. “And you know it, Moony -”

George whipped his head to look at Fred at the exact moment that Fred looked at him, George’s expression of shock mirrored on Fred’s face.

“Moony?” Fred mouthed, his eyes wide.

George didn’t hear anything that was said next, his brain working frantically to connect the dots that had suddenly appeared in his mind.

He felt Fred tug on his sleeve, and felt the vibrations of someone coming up the stairs towards them. Quickly George pulled the Extendable Ear out of his ear, giving the string a sharp tug to retract it into his hand, and followed his twin up the stairs to their bedroom. As soon at the door was shut, Fred whirled around, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Moony!” he repeated. “Do you think -?”

“As in Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?” George asked, grinning at the memory of the map of Hogwarts that he and Fred had come by in their first year. “Could just be a coincidence. What are the odds that- “

“Lupin’s a werewolf. Changes into a wolf at the full moon, doesn’t he? It makes sense that he would be called “Moony.” Fred argued. 

“In a roundabout sort of way, yes” George agreed. “But just because he’s a werewolf doesn’t mean he’d make a map for the purpose of magical mischief. He’s a professor -”

“Wasn’t always a professor,” Fred argued. “And he had three friends at Hogwarts who also transformed into animals. If there’s any body that would be up to no good, it’d be the group that secretly taught themselves to be Animagi.”

George silently conceded that his twin had a good point. “Alright. If we assume that Lupin is the Moony -”

“- and his friends are the others, then, who’s who?” Fred asked, picking up on George’s train of thought. 

“Well, we know that Scabbers - I mean, Peter - was, is, a rat - “ George corrected himself quickly.

Fred thought about this, and an “eureka” look came across his face. “Wormtail!” he said. 

George nodded in agreement. 

“Which would make Sirius either Padfoot, or Prongs,” Fred said thoughtfully. 

“Padfoot,” George said decisively.

“How do you reckon?” Fred asked sceptically.

“His Animagi form, you nonce,” George shook his head at his brother’s thick-headedness. “If Lupin - a werewolf - is Moony, and Scabbers - Peter - is a rat - “

“ - then Sirius would be Padfoot, because he’s a big black dog” Fred finished the thought. “Brilliant deduction, brother dear.”

“Why thank you, brother o’mine,” George said modestly.

“We should test our theory,” Fred said mischievously.

“But of course.”

Fred fell silent. 

“So. How do we do that?”


	4. Chapter 4

The easiest way to test their theory, Fred and George decided, was to casually drop the names “Moony” and “Padfoot” in conversation and see if Sirius or Lupin reacted. It wasn’t a perfect plan: Sirius and Lupin may not be paying attention to them, or they may have taught themselves not to outwardly react to anyone but their friends using their nicknames, but George reasoned that the element of surprise might just catch one of them off-guard enough to react. 

A few nights later, Fred and George lingered in the kitchen. Ginny had long since gone up to bed, and Ron and Hermione were talking quietly at the far end of the table, a roll of parchment in front of them. Sirius and Lupin were sitting at the other end in silence, Lupin nursing a cup of tea, Sirius sipping from a glass that George would bet the contents of his robe pocket had firewhisky in it, a concerned look on his face as he stared at Lupin.

George flicked a glance to Fred. _Ready, Fred?_

Fred gave a miniscule nod. _Ready, George._

George launched into the rambling nonsense story that he and Fred had rehearsed, keeping an eye on Sirius and Lupin. Fred was pretending to pay attention to George, but George could see his eyes flicking to the side as George spoke. 

“ - and then ‘Dung tells him, “bloody hell, what’choo skulking around there like a bloody padfoot?””

George saw Sirius’ head instantly turn in their direction, looking for all the world like a dog that had just heard its name called. Lupin’s eyes also flicked up, a small frown playing around his eyes. George struggled to keep his face blank, to pretend he hadn’t noticed, but internally he was cheering. It had worked!

“And he says - “

In the thrill of victory, George had completely forgotten the next part of the story. Thankfully, Molly suddenly entered the kitchen and hustled her children and Hermione to bed, warning them of the long, hard work that was waiting for them the next day, and he and Fred willinging climbed the stairs to their room, grinning at each other as they went. 

~*~

So now they were certain: Lupin and Sirius were Moony and Padfoot, and it made sense that they - along with Peter Pettigrew and Harry’s dad were the Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs of the Marauder’s Map. 

“We ought to buy them a drink!” Fred exclaimed, pacing the small bedroom that the twins had been using. “Two drinks! A whole bottle!”

“Steady on,” George advised. 

“I will not! That map was the secret of our success! The basis for our true education at Hogwarts! We owe them!”

George had to admit that Fred was right. Now that he knew who Sirius and Lupin were, he felt a little indebted to them, and maybe just a little awed. The Marauder’s Map had not only enabled Fred and George to wreak so much havoc at the school, it was a masterful piece of magic. Many a night George and Fred had taken the map out and simply looked at, trying to discern how the Marauder’s Map had been made, and to suddenly be in the presence of not one but two of the men who made it, well, George was torn between wanting to shake their hand, pick their brains and bow before them. 

A drink would be an acceptable compromise. 

“We could get Bill to help us,” George said. “He could take us to Diagon Alley with him one day, or we could tell him what we want and he could get it for us.” 

Fred shook his head. “And how would we explain where we got the Galleons? And why we want a bottle of expensive liquor? And why he can’t tell Mum or Dad?” 

George considered this. Of their older brothers, Bill was the most cautious: not because he was worried about rules, but because he knew the terrible consequences that could sometimes occur by breaking them. Bill would be happy to help his little brothers, but he would want to know all the details first to make sure they weren’t getting into something dangerous. Fred was right. They couldn’t tell Bill.

An idea occurred to George, and he began to smile. “Maybe ‘Dung could help us?”

Mundungus Fletcher - Dung - was the latest member of the Order that Fred and George had met. Useful to the Order because of his connections with the petty criminal underworld, Fred and George were more interested in Dung for his stories about his “business opportunities” and his seeming ability to get anything anyone wanted, so long as they didn’t question where he got it or how. 

If anyone was going to be willing to help the twins, it would be Dung. 

“Yes! Although -” Fred continued darkly “we’d better make sure we know how much it would normally cost, otherwise ‘Dung will be helping himself more than he’ll be helping us.”

Crouching down to pull the small trunk out from its hiding place, George lifted the trunk and placed it on his bed. Opening it, he carefully lifted out a battered copy of A History of Magic that sat on top of the contents of the trunk along with old, beat-up textbooks and copies of Martin Miggs that George had placed there to throw his mother off the scent, should she happen to go searching. With a quick tap of his wand he opened the book, revealing a hidden cavity in which Fred and George had secreted the leather pouch that Harry had given them a few weeks ago: his winnings from the TriWizard Tournament, and the financial foundation of their future joke shop. 

Looking at the pouch, George remembered the promise that Harry had extracted from them when he handed over the coins: a new set of dress robes for Ron.

With a sigh, George poured out a handful of coins from the pouch and handed them over to Fred. “We’ll need Dung to help us out with something else, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, odd little snippet as the penultimate chapter. It ought to have been part of the previous or next chapter, but I made an error with my chapter breaks. Oh well.


	5. Chapter 5

It was late. The Order of the Phoenix meeting had finally finished, and Fred and George hoped that, as usually happened, Sirius and Lupin would remain in the kitchen after everyone else had left.

The twins had Apparated into Ginny and Hermione’s room after their mother had done her nightly bed checks, realising that their room - three storeys up - was not the ideal launch point for covert operations. Ginny’s - on the first floor - was a much better position. And so Fred and George crouched in the darkness, peering through the crack in the door, waiting.

As the rumble of feet and voices died down, George heard the stairs creaking as someone climbed up them. George looked to Fred, who had his Extendable Ear out and was listening intently. Fred looked up and mouthed “ _Dad_ ” and George nodded. The sound of footsteps passed them, and the creaking started again, moving up and away from them. Finally, Fred whispered, “okay, let’s go”. Very carefully, George followed Fred through the bedroom door and down the stairs, staying close to the wall to avoid making any noise. They crossed the hall and entered the kitchen, George letting out a sigh of relief when he saw Sirius and Lupin were alone in the room. 

As Fred strode forward with a “Good evening gentleman,” George hung back for a second, taking in how close Sirius and Lupin’s chairs were, the angle of their bodies, worried that he and Fred had interrupted…..something. But as Fred approached both men lifted their heads and cleared their expressions, Sirius’ face swiftly sliding into the blankness of snooty superiority that he defaulted to, the worry on Lupin’s face disappearing behind what George had begun to think of as his “mild mannered professor” mask. 

“Mr Weasley, Mr Weasley,” Lupin acknowledged them . “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“Oh, the pleasure is all ours, believe us. ” 

Fred looked over his shoulder at George, and George stepped forward, placing the bottle of mead that Mundungus Fletcher had procured for them - swore on his mother’s grave that it was top of the line for the Galleons they were willing to spend - on the table with a flourish. 

Sirius straightened in his chair and exchanged a look with Lupin, who looked at the bottle with curiosity.

“For you, with our undying thanks,” Fred clarified.

Quick looks again, Sirius quirking an eyebrow, Lupin barely lifting a shoulder. 

“And what, exactly, are you thanking us for?” Sirius asked leaning forward, one long finger poking at the bottle so he could better read the label. “I don’t remember doing anything recently that would warrant such an expensive bottle of mead.” A dark look crossed his face, and his eyes flicked sideways as Lupin shifted in his chair, his body moving a bit closer to Sirius’. 

George stared at Sirius and Lupin, watching the interplay between them, a thought occurring to him. Fred, on the other hand, was summoning four glasses to the table and turning back to the table with a grin.

“A toast?” he asked, not noticing Sirius’ question or sudden dark mood. 

“Why not,” Sirius replied, taking hold of the bottle and working it open, then pouring two generous glasses and two small splashes of mead. Lupin looked on with a faint disapproval at the glasses pushed Fred and George’s way, but didn’t refuse one of the more generous glasses when Sirius handed it to him. 

When Fred and George had taken hold of their glasses, Sirius raised his glass in the air. “A toast,” he said.

Fred and George exchanged a conspiratorial glance, and then Fred raised his glass. “To Messers Moony and Padfoot, for their aid in magical mischief making.”

Sirius had taken a sip of mead, his mind clearly elsewhere, not paying attention to Fred. When the words of the toast finally filtered through his mind, he coughed, choking, and then stared at Fred, eyes wide with surprise. Lupin’s jaw had dropped, his glass halfway to his mouth. He glanced at Sirius with concern when Sirius started coughing, and then back at Fred and George, who grinned at each other and took a sip from their own glasses. The mead was sweet, George decided: not cloyingly sweet like butterbeer, but with a bite and a warmth that George found not unpleasant. 

“And who exactly are these ‘Moony’ and ‘Padfoot’?” Lupin inquired lightly, examining his glass of mead, schooling his face back to its mild blandness. 

Fred put his glass down, and leaned forward on his elbows. “Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs,” Fred recited.

“Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers -” George continued, replacing his own glass on the table. 

“Are proud to present -”

“The Marauder’s Map” they finished together, grinning identical wicked grins as Sirius’ lips twitched with suppressed mirth and Lupin’s eyes closed in what looked like a long-suffering sigh. 

“And what makes you think that we are these - what did you call them, ‘purveyors of aid to mischief-makers’?” Sirius asked, his voice nonchalant but his eyes twinkling over his glass. 

“Magical mischief-makers,” Lupin corrected automatically

Sirius gasped dramatically and shot Lupin a disbelieving look. “Moony!” 

George opened his eyes wide in surprise- he didn’t think that Sirius and Lupin would give up the game this easily. 

Lupin groaned and dropped his head into one hand. 

“We argued for weeks over the wording; I can’t help if they are seared into my brain for all eternity,” Lupin retorted, wearily rubbing his eyes. “How did you come across the map?” he asked Fred, ignoring Sirius who was almost cackling with glee at Lupin. 

“Filch’s office,” Fred replied, somewhat proudly. “First year.”

“It was in his filing cabinet,” George smirked. “Filed under ‘Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.”

Sirius was looking at them, a proud smile on his face. Lupin raised an eyebrow. “And how - on second thought, I don’t want to know,” he admitted, shaking his head slightly.

“George set off a dungbomb to distract Filch, and I grabbed the map out of the drawer,” Fred answered anyway, pleased with himself and his twin.

“‘Course, we didn’t know it was a map at first,” George added.

“Took us a while to figure out how to work it.”

“It was almost a shame when we did work it out - the insults were very entertaining.” 

“Mr. Padfoot was especially creative.”

“Learned a few new ones, we did.”

Sirius and Lupin exchanged bemused and exasperated glances. George guessed that while Lupin remembered his and Fred’s habit of tossing the conversational baton back and forth like a hot potato, this was a new experience for Sirius. George understood. Their mother had told them time and time again how exhausting it could be. 

“And I assume you gave the map to Harry at some point?” Lupin asked.

“His third year,” Fred confirmed. “Thought he could use it to go to Hogsmeade, since he didn’t have permission yet.”

“I never did ask Harry how he came across the map,” Lupin murmured to Sirius. Sirius snorted. 

“Probably a good thing they -'' here, Sirius jerked his head in the direction of the twins “- found it. Harry’s too much like Lily to have spent much time in Filch’s office.”

“If _James_ had been more like Lily, perhaps the map wouldn’t have ended up _in_ Filch’s office in the first place,” Lupin retorted, not unkindly.

“It wasn’t James’ fault that Filch found us -” 

“No, it was yours, Padfoot.” Lupin cut him off. 

Sirius looked indignant. “And who was the one who handed the map over?” he shot back, and then softened the retort with a soft laugh. “Thank Merlin for you, though, Moony,” Sirius said affectionately. “I think by our seventh year Filch was ready to hang us all by our toe-nails, and McGonnogal was probably about ready to let him. You saved our skin.”

“It was a wrench to hand the map over,” Lupin admitted. “But, I am glad that another generation of students found it and put it to good use. And that it ended up in Harry’s hands. I think James would be pleased.” 

George watched Sirius and Lupin,, wondering if the two old friends had forgotten that Fred and George were sitting there listening to them. Once again, George wondered about the bond between the two men.

“But how _did_ you make the map?” George winced at his twin’s interruption, but understood: Fred was eager to learn the secrets of the map. So was George. He watched his twin lean across the table to Lupin, looking intense. “Because George and I never could figure it out. It’s a variation of _hominum revelio_ , right? 

“Actually, it’s a Homonculous charm,” Lupin replied, leaning his elbows on the table, his Defence Against the Dark Arts professor voice kicking in, much to Sirius’ apparent amusement, George thought. “ _Hominum revelio_ is more useful as….”

Fred and George spent the rest of the night hanging on Sirius and Lupin’s every word. Lupin explained some of the magic that went into making the Marauder’s Map, while Sirius remembered with a wicked smile the genius idea that someone - Sirius claimed James, Lupin was adamant it was Sirius - had for the map insulting anyone who tried to read it. Fred summoned a quill and parchment at this point and drilled Lupin and Sirius on the finer points of that charm, and George was sure that there would be a product in their future joke shop that did something similar. Sirius and Lupin told stories of exploring the school and finding the secret tunnels - there were plenty of warning coughs and pointed looks between the two men that made George was sure that there were some parts of the stories that were being intentionally left out - and Fred and George told tales of their own adventures using the map to play pranks and avoid Filch.

George felt a pang of guilt as he listened to Sirius laugh in delight at Lupin’s remembering of a particular prank that James - Harry’s dad - had orchestrated. _Harry ought to be the one hearing all these stories_ , he thought, _not Fred and me_. These were memories of Harry’s father, told by his best friends, and George knew that if his own father hadn’t been upstairs asleep, then he would be wanting to hear anything and everything he could about the man, especially from those people who knew him best. He resolved to somehow remember all these stories, and tell them to Harry. Or maybe Harry would be at Grimmauld Place soon, and then Sirius and Remus could tell him themselves. Harry might even bring the map out, George thought. He’d like to see it again, and he thought Sirius and Lupin would too. 

It was well into the early hours of the morning when Lupin, common sense kicking in, finally shooed the twins off to bed, warning them that their mother would have all their hides if she knew that Fred and George had been up all night and drinking. Giddy with exhaustion and the mead, George bid Sirius and Lupin a good night and - the room only spinning once or twice - followed an equally wobbly looking Fred to the stairs out of the kitchen. 

Something made George pause at the foot of the stairs and look back. Sirius had said something to Lupin which made Lupin laugh softly and look down at the table, shaking his head sadly. Sirius reached a hand out and covered one of Lupin’s, and Lupin looked up at Sirius, his hand moving to thread his fingers through Sirius’, a soft smile on his face. Lupin said something to Sirius which made him throw his head back with barely suppressed laughter, and George felt himself blush at the intensity with which Lupin looked at Sirius.

Not wanting to interrupt the private moment, George slowly and quietly retreated from the kitchen, leaving Sirius and Lupin - Moony and Padfoot, the two remaining Marauders - alone.

Mischief managed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all folks! I hope that you enjoyed this last chapter, and the fic as a whole. I certainly enjoyed writing it! Thank you to everyone who left kudos or commented - I appreciate more than you know.


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